


Taking His Shot

by keelhaulrose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelhaulrose/pseuds/keelhaulrose
Summary: Steve had a bit of a crush for a while, and a Christmas Party might offer him the perfect moment to act.Created for the Melting Pot Merry Little Exchange 2018





	Taking His Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/gifts).



Tony Stark was drunk.

This in and of itself was nothing new. Tony had been tipsy, blitzed, smashed, wasted, hammered, shit-faced, wrecked... if it meant 'inebriated' in any way Tony had been called it at least once. Tony was known for being a rather boisterous drunk, and his friends and fellow Avengers actually found it somewhat welcome that Christmas Eve. He provided a level of entertainment and refused to let the informal party get dull.

Steve Rogers was drunk.

This was much more unusual. He had never been much of a drinker before the serum, and after alcohol didn't have much of an effect, so he didn't see the need to bother with it. So as the unsteady feeling and the mental fogginess started to creep in he wasn't sure if he should be suspicious or let the new feelings take over and give him a bit of an escape. He swirled the eggnog in the expensive crystal glass Tony had insisted on using for some reason that escaped him at the moment. Thor had tipped something into each glass, something Asguardian that he assured the men was “not that strong” with a wide grin. Steve hadn't thought to question the gesture, but he wondered if he should ask exactly what had been placed in his drink. Tonight was not the night for lowered inhibitions, there was too much merriment to get lost in, too many lowered guards, too many witnesses...

“Are you feeling okay?” Nat was suddenly by his side, looking concerned.

“I'm fine,” he replied, watching Tony throwing Christmas popper wrappers at Clint, testing how drunk the marksman was.

“So,” she said, taking a sip of her beer as she seemed to search for the right words. “How long?” she asked.

“How long what?” Steve asked, tearing his eyes away from Tony, who had shifted targets to Bruce, who had fallen asleep on the couch.

“How long have you... fancied him?” she asked softly.

Steve felt his stomach drop and his mouth suddenly go dry. He took a drink of the eggnog to wet his suddenly parched tongue as much as avoiding the answer.

“You know, it's not the forties anymore, Cap,” she continued. “That sort of thing isn't looked at the same way.”

“I know,” he replied in a murmur. “But Tony isn't like that. He had a girlfriend for so long...”

“Tony's type is anything that is into Tony,” she interrupted. “Trust me, the feelings are mutual, though both of you are sure the other isn't like that.”

“It's not a good time,” he shook his head.

“It's never a good time. Not with us,” she replied, glancing at Bruce. “There's always something going on, always something we need to respond to, always some threat on the horizon. If we wait for that to be over we're going to be dead before anything happens.”

Steve sighed. She was right, Nat had a bad habit of being blunt but correct. “I know,” he conceded. “But that doesn't change anything. It's not a good time, and sometimes what we've chosen to do with our lives means we don't get to make other choices that would make us happy.”

“Chose,” she scoffed. “None of us chose this, not really. Even though Tony chose to make his suit and you chose that serum, none of us really knew what we were getting into until we were too far into it that we would be able to get out even if we tried. If you're going to let that stop you then you are making a choice, and that's the choice to be alone when you don't have to be.” She finished sharply and walked way to sit between Clint and Thor, the latter of whom had been uncharacteristically quiet since spiking everyone's drink, and had sequestered himself to the side of the room, watching the antics unfold before him.

Tony's loud cry drew Steve's attention, and Steve turned to see Tony raise his arms in triumph. Bruce was still asleep, though now he had a festive hat perched precariously on his forehead, held only in place by being hooked around his nose. Bruce seemed completely oblivious to having just been used as a target for whatever game Tony had just concocted.

“Your turn, Rhodey,” Tony said, carefully plucking the hat from Bruce's face and holding it out to his friend.

James Rhodes held up his hands and shook his head. “Um, no thanks. I prefer not to be turned into a human punching bag by the Not-So-Jolly Green Giant.”

“Want a turn, Cap?” Tony turned to Steve, shooting him a wide smile.

Steve thought for a moment, then stepped forward and took the hat, then he took a few steps back and lined up his shot at Bruce.

“You know it's only pride on the line, right?” Tony asked when Steve didn't toss the hat, turning to look at him in frustration.

Steve took his chance, tossing the hat and managing to get it on Tony's head. The bauble on the top swung once, then came back to the front, hitting Tony, whose reflexes had been deadened by the alcohol, solidly on the nose. Rhodey started laughing and, once the shock wore off, even Tony looked bemused.

“Nice shot, Cap,” Tony conceded.

“Thank you,” Steve replied with a grin, and for a moment the men's eyes met and Steve's stomach clenched again as he fought a flush from crossing his face.

“Hey, Cap?” Nat's voice drew his attention, and saw her looking downright conspiratorial, which could mean nothing good. “Now would be a good time to act on what we were talking about earlier.”

Steve couldn't stop the flush this time, and felt a bit of the alcohol wear off as his body prepared for a fight or flight response.

“Clint?” she said, not giving Steve the proper chance to respond, and she pulled something from behind her back. Steve only had a second to register that it was mistletoe before she tossed it up in a high arc. Clint produced a dart seemingly from nowhere, and managed to line up and take his shot in one fluid motion. Unsurprisingly it hit its target, taking the mistletoe even higher until the dart lodged it firmly into the ceiling directly above Tony's head. For a long moment no one moved as they processed what had just happened.

A combination of the alcohol and adrenaline guided Steve forward, and Tony turned toward him nearly expectantly. Raising both hands Steve placed them on either side of Tony's face, drawing it upwards as Tony's eyes closed in anticipation. Steve's kiss was slow, cautious, his body tense in anticipation of a poor reaction. Tony's body quickly caught up, responding enthusiastically, and he pressed himself into the kiss, demanding it become deeper as if he thought it may be his only shot, though both knew fairly quickly that it was only the first of many.

As cheers and congratulations and exclamations of “Finally!” erupted around them no one seemed to notice that one party goer was being unusually restrained. Everyone was so engrossed in what was happening that no one noticed the uncharacteristic smirk on Thor's face, the smug pat of the bottle he had used to spike the eggnog, and the flash of green in his eyes. Steve and Tony may have gotten what they wanted that night, but so had someone else, and there was so much more he planned to do now that two of his biggest rivals were going to be predisposed for a while.


End file.
